


The Sun, Stars, and Codependency

by Diary



Series: Dog Saved World [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: American Sign Language, Angst, Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Fail, Character Death In Dream, Clint Barton-centric, Deaf Clint Barton, Disturbing Themes, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Natasha Romanov's Arrow Necklace, Nightmares, POV Clint Barton, POV Male Character, Sharing a Bed, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 07:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6414157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Natasha, this- this has to do with me. It’s not your fault. And if you want to kick me, I’ll give you a free blow.” Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sun, Stars, and Codependency

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own The Avengers.

Grabbing her, he pulls her into the alley.

Breathing out, "Clint," she immediately removes the knife against his neck. “Clint, what are you doing here? How are you here? Why?”

She looks at him suspiciously, but he simply smiles slightly at her. “Coulson did me a solid and got me off science-watching duty. Does your interrogation have to be today?”

“No,” she answers. “No, but- is something going on with you?”

He reaches over to touch her hand. “I’m bored, Tasha. I probably should know this, but I don’t even know how long I’ve been watching scientists playing with lights, typing, and babbling about quantum and elements. Their typing isn’t even interesting; it’s about stuff that I’m not sure really needs to be classified on the grounds most people would either give up or eat a bullet after the first few hours of trying to translate it to layman’s terms.”

Moving to lean against the wall and press against him, her eyes don’t leave his face. “You’ve never gone as far as to pull me off a mission just because you’re bored.”

“Well, first time for everything,” he says. “And I’m not pulling you off. You feel the need to go do your interrogation, go ahead. We can have fun when you’re done.”

Uncertainty plays across her face.

“Really, Tasha,” he says. “I’m good. Just trying to rebel a little after so much boredom.”

She smiles. “It can wait. But if Coulson regrets his decision, I’m throwing you under.”

“Got it, darling.” He reaches over to touch her cheek. “Ladies’ choice. Just make it something fun.”

…

When they take a break from the sights to get something to eat at an outside diner, he looks over at the couples dancing in the square.

“C’mon, Tash.” He pulls her up.

“Clint-” She resists his pull. “I’m not sure-”

“Will it blow your mission?”

“No, I’m just not sure it’s- Okay,” she relents.

Pulling her onto the street, he wraps an arm around her waist and links his other hand through hers.

Laughing, she adjusts their stance.

They dance, and he sighs.

She moves away enough to look up at his face. “Clint? Talk to me.”

Shaking his head, he pulls her back to him. “Remember when we had sake and danced?”

“Of course,” she answers. “Finally regretting it?”

“You could say that." Ignoring the way she tenses, he continues, “God, I was idiot, Natasha. I had this amazing, sexy, beautiful woman on my lap. I should have let you put a knife through that phone. What kind of man-”

Pulling back fully, she catches his face with her hands. “You weren’t an idiot. What’s brought this on?”

He shrugs. “I’ve always thought it. But being bored gives you a lot of time to think. A lot of time to imagine.” Reaching over, he strokes her neck. “Don’t let it ruin things, Tasha, please. I’ll be fine once I-”

She kisses him, and he immediately responds.

“If you want me,” she murmurs through the kisses, “you can still have me, Clint. We can get a room.”

His hand finds her bottom, and he pulls her closer. “Please.”

…

When they get to the room, she gives him an almost shy look.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want, sweetheart,” he promises. “I couldn’t, could I?”

She scowls even as she reaches over to bring his hand to her ribcage. “Don’t call me ‘sweetheart’. What do you want?”

“Just you,” he answers. He moves his hand up to her chest. “Want to see you naked, touch and taste you everywhere, see if I can make you sigh.”

She lets out a soft, strangled sound and is down to her underwear in seconds. “Your turn,” she declares, and then, he is too.

He grins at her, and she pulls him to the bed.

Reaching out, he buries his hand in her hair and kisses her. When she responds, he lowers her down onto the bed and rubs when he settles in between her legs.

She gasps. “Clint! Oh, oh,” she begins murmuring in Russian.

“Never really understood how the widows did it.” Watching her face war between pleasure, confusion, and hurt, he thrusts before she can respond. “Pretty girls who can make you think you’re funny and good in bed. I’m so glad you weren’t doing that when we first met.”

She relaxes somewhat, opens her eyes, and grabs him into a chaste kiss. “Clint, I promise, this is real. You think you’re the only one who’s thought about it? I- I saw how kind you were to that dog that knocked over your soda when you first started looking for me, and I think part of me was lost, then.”

He gives her a searching look. “Probably screw it up, but if you want more than this, I’ll give it a try. You being beautiful, I can ignore. But whether you like it or not, sweetheart, you have so much good in you, and I can see it. They couldn’t take that away, and well, a man can only be so close to a woman like you, so funny and good and beautiful, for so long before he ends up watching scientists and thinking, ‘I’d give anything just to be with her right now.’”

Exhaling, she nods and positively attacks his mouth.

He waits until he hears a certain phrase before he pulls back and grabs her wrist. “That a yes to more, Tash?”

Nodding, she tries to get her hands free. “Yes,” she huffs. “Yes, now, let me-”

“I heard what you said just now,” he says, and she stills. He watches her mentally backtrack to find the words. “Look at me and say it, Tasha. You can say it in Russian, again. Just look at me and say it consciously.”

“Clint-” Slipping her wrists out of his hands, she props herself up on her elbows. “This is good, isn’t it? This is already a big step.”

Smiling, he strokes her cheek. “You don’t trust me, or you didn’t mean it?”

Dodging her kick, he holds his hands up and scoots away. “We’re not stupid kids in the back of a truck, Tasha.”

“That-”

“If I didn’t routinely rely on you to save my ass, I wouldn’t particularly care,” he continues. “I’m not exactly proud of it, but do you think there wasn’t a time I said I loved a girl when I was really only interested in her bed? And as long as you trust me to be your eyes in the sky, you don’t have to trust me with anything else. Since we do have a good partnership going, though, I feel it’s important to know which.”

She closes her eyes, and he keeps applying gentle pressure to her cheek.

Opening them, she looks at him impassively. “And how do you feel about me?”

“Oh, I’ve been in love with you since before I probably even realised it,” he causally tells her.

Laughing, she refuses to look at him. “And you’re just dispensing it now, as if you’re telling me the sky is blue.”

“Why not? You’ve never asked before. I made you an offer when we first met, remember? ‘Death, without hesitation or doubt,’ you said. And I said I was masculine enough to take brutal honesty. Still am.”

He lets her pull him down on top of him and kiss him. When she touches his eyes, he opens them. “I love you,” she quietly tells him.

In a flash, he’s grabbed the knife from the nightstand and slit her throat. Holding her wrist in one hand, he puts pressure on the wound and dodges her erratic kicks as he looks down into her eyes. “S.H.I.E.L.D. has been compromised, Natalia Romanova. And once my work is finished, I’m going to bring your hawk back here and let him see and remember what’s he’s done. I’m sure his death will suitably poetic.”

…

Waking up, Clint manages to avoid screaming when he finds himself surrounded by Natasha.

Her warm body is pressed against his with her arms wrapped around him and her breath against his skin. Breathing in only makes it worse as the scent of her assaults his nose.

 _It’s okay_ , he tells himself. _She’s okay. Loki didn’t get to her. She’s alive, and however many agents and civilians I have on my conscience, I didn’t manage to irrevocably hurt her._

Touching her eyes, he gets up.

Murmuring in her sleep and shifting, she nevertheless respects the signal.

In the bathroom, he takes a cold shower until the sickening hardness goes away.

Once he’s done, he puts on a pair of sweats and goes for a run.

He runs until the sun starts to invade the sky and his legs are so sore and stiff he can barely take the steps needed to get back to his room.

When he does, he almost finds himself crying.

Sitting on his bed in a robe, she's drying her hair.

“Hey,” she says, and he realises as he reads her lips he forgot to put his aids in.

 _Hey_ , he signs before collapsing on the bed.

He thinks he makes a sound of protest.

Suddenly, her concerned eyes are studying him, and her sure hands are gently touching his legs and taking off his shoes and socks.

He knows the dream probably could have been worse. He doesn’t know how it could have been, but he was screwed up enough before Loki to know better than to underestimate how twisted his mind might really be.

Still, he feels the strong urge to plead with her, _Look, Tasha, I know you never would, but still, could you just assure me, ‘I’ll never fall in love with you.’ ‘Cause, really, I’m man enough to know you’d never go for someone like me, and that’s fine, that’s great, actually, because, I’d rather you be out there and alive and happy than being brought down in anyway by me. I know you’re so much stronger than that, but please, just say the words to really drive it in._

The only thing stopping him is the realisation she might take it as a warning there’s something wrong with him ( _uh_ , some sarcastic part pipes up) and focus on trying to figure out what instead of just telling him what he needs to hear.

He closes his eyes.

When he reopens them, it’s fully sunny outside, and she’s trying and mostly failing to teach one of the robots yoga.

He sits up.

 _You okay_ , she signs.

Nodding, he puts his aids in. “Sorry, Tasha. Had a bad dream.”

Giving a nod of her own, she reaches over.

The brief look of hurt on her face makes him hate himself for instinctively scooting back on the bed and bringing his legs with him.

“I’m sorry,” he offers. “I just- Can you not touch me right now, Nat? I-”

“Yes,” she says. Looking him in the eyes, she stands up and keeps her hands on flat against her own legs. “Whatever it is, it’s fine. You don’t have to explain, and I won’t let you apologise.”

He sighs. “Thank you. I’m going to get something to eat.”

“Do you want some company?”

“Yeah, that’d be good,” he answers.

He stands, and his legs and feet protest. Trying to ignore them, he realises his sweatshirt is off.

“I took it off,” she says. “I didn’t-”

“Thanks,” he says. “It’s no problem, Tasha,” he continues when he sees the expression on her face isn’t going away. “Taking each other’s clothes off isn’t going to go on the boundary list for me after all these years.”

He gets some clean clothes from the closet, goes to the bathroom, puts some deodorant on, and changes.

…

 _If you hadn’t broke that night, you would have shot that arrow_ , intrusively pops into his head.

Clint sighs.

There are times when the fact he’s actively taken lives refuses to let him have peace. For all the justifications there are –before Loki, he never killed anyone who wasn’t a confirmed threat to innocent people-, he still takes something no one really has the right to take from another.

He doesn’t know what it says about him, but when the fact he would have killed Natasha if he’d been in a better frame of mind refuses to let him have peace, it’s even worse.

He wishes he had seen something in her. He wishes she had done something to let him know it was okay not to take the shot.

All he’d seen was a cold-blooded killer who’d just tried to burn him alive, and he’d walked away with the realisation he’d regret it and might also end up dead soon.

How they went from _that_ to _this_ , he stopped trying to figure out a long time ago.

What matters is, she’s currently arguing with Steve over whether Steve should ask out some girl in accounting or not, and aside from wondering how long they’ve had an accounting department, he knows he can’t do anything to risk her life. If the dream he had was just the product of his own twisted mind, he’ll deal, but if it was a warning or a sign he might try to actually hurt her, he has to leave.

“When exactly did S.H.I.E.L.D. decide to get an accounting department,” Steve inquires.

 _God bless Captain America,_ Clint thinks with a surge of genuine fondness.

Nat, however, doesn’t appreciate the question and begins unleashing sarcasm.

…

Once Steve is gone, Tasha almost bumps her foot against his but stops herself.

His guilt grows.

“You’ve been quiet,” she observes.

“I need some time away, Tasha. By myself. I know you probably can’t help worrying, but don’t worry. I’m going to my family’s farm. I’ll contact you every few days, if you want.”

Her impassive expression is back. “You hate that farm.”

He shrugs. “Place to go.”

“How tired are you?”

Unable to help it, he laughs. “I really don’t know, sweetheart.”

Her only reaction is a tightening of her lips. Then, slowly, she says, “If you need time, fine. But- don’t shut me out, Clint.”

He nods.

“Call me every day,” she continues. “You can pick the time, but it has to be consistent, and it has to be a call, not a text or email.”

“Okay.”

There’s something she’s not saying, he can feel it, and he waits.

“If I did something, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

_Well, now that you mention it, why didn’t you aim your gun better in that abandoned building? Or before that, when I had no idea you were around, why didn’t you slit **my** throat while I was lying deaf and sleeping on my hotel bed? Why didn’t you take me out when it became clear I trusted you with my life? You’ve always been better at hand-to-hand and with almost every weapon out there. You could have done it. _

Yes, he could say this, he knows, and then, after she finally released him from however many hours of the body-wide pain was enough to satisfy her, she’d have him in a padded room with shrinks verbally poking at him before he could blink.

“You know this is all Loki and my own screwed up head,” he says instead. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Need help packing?”

“No, but thanks,” he answers.

…

He really does hate the farm.

It’s nothing but bad memories, strays who view him with disinterest, nothing but cleaning to do, and missing Natasha.

By the third day, he’s almost ready to tell her, ‘I’m ready to come back, now. Can you get Stark to send a jet or something?’

“Hey, Tasha, how you doing,” he asks.

“Steve and I are going on another mission. We leave tomorrow. Call Banner for your check-in."

“Is that really necessary?”

“Yes,” she answers.

“Why the doc?”

“Just call him.”

Then, she hangs up.

…

He’s not sure why he’s suddenly awake.

If he was having a bad dream, he can’t remember it. There’s no one in the room with him.

Sighing, he looks down at the time.

It’s 3:45.

 _Two hours and fifty minutes_ , he tells himself. _You can call her, then_.

He knows he won’t.

Ever since she and Steve finished their mission, things have been- distant. He’ll call, she’ll ensure he’s alive and not hurt, and they’ll hang up after a few awkward prods from him to gauge how she’s doing.

 _This can’t go on,_ he realises.

…

“Welcome back, Agent Barton,” Jarvis greets.

“Hey, Jarvis. Anyone up?”

“Sir, Miss Potts, and Dr Banner are in the main kitchen. I would recommend against going within ten feet of it.”

“Got it,” he says.

“Agent Romanov is in Captain Rogers's room,” Jarvis continues. “That’s all.”

He can’t punch Captain America. He’s half-afraid he’s going to end up on some high-priority watch lists just for even thinking it.

Moreover, if he punched Steve, he’d be in for a world of both physical and mental pain from Tasha.

 _Be happy for her_ , he firmly tells himself. _You’ve known she’s had a thing for him for a long time. It’s about time she admitted it and gave it a shot._

A new thought hits him.

He should probably try to have a gentle, reasonable discussion about, _Tasha, Captain America was a hero of mine growing up, and Steve’s a good guy, and I’m obligated to take your side, no matter what, but uh, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break his heart._

“In the morning, can you tell her I’m back?”

He will not think about her and Steve-

“That is, when she and the cap. aren’t busy doing anything, then, can you tell her? For the love of God, don’t interrupt them while they’re engaged in anything private.”

“Captain Rogers is not presently in the tower, Agent Barton. Agent Romanov is watching Les Misérables.”

He sighs. “Thanks, Jarvis.”

…

When he gets to Steve’s part of the tower, he hesitates.

Taking a breath, he knocks.

Tasha opens the door, and his breath catches. She’s in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top with her hair slightly frizzy and the arrow necklace on her neck, and she’s looking at him with tired, slightly glazed eyes.

He’s pulling her into a hug before he can think.

“Clint,” she says, and she’s hugging him back.

When they break the hug, she looks at him critically. “You didn’t call to say you were coming back.”

“Impulse,” he tells her.

She smiles. “You up for touching?”

“The hug didn’t give it away?”

“Just needed to be sure.” Reaching over, she studies his hands. “You’ve kept up shooting.”

“You know me, Tash, I can never go long without my arrows.”

“Are you back for good?”

“Could we talk somewhere else?”

“My room,” she answers.

…

“So, are you and Steve together, now?”

She gives him an exasperated look. “Didn’t we put this to rest months ago?”

He carefully adjusts his stance so he can try to protect himself if she should decide to attack and points out, “Well, you were in his room in the middle of the night.”

The look she gives him is one he’d describe as prim on anyone else. “We’re friends, Clint.”

If this is supposed to make him feel better, it doesn’t, and he tells himself to get over it.

Sitting down on the bed, he tries to brace himself. “Natasha, this- this has to do with me. It’s not your fault. And if you want to kick me, I’ll give you a free blow.”

She sits down beside him. “I’m not going to like this.”

“I’m going to ask for a transfer of partners.”

“Why?”

“Because, I’m still screwed up from Loki. More than I realised. And it’s not your fault-”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself of that?”

Her tone is colder than he can remember it being in a long time.

“And it’s not your fault,” he barrels on, “but my feelings for you are complicating things.”

“Your feelings for me. What does that even mean, Barton?”

Briefly, he considers laying it out.

Rubbing his face, he says, “Bear with me.”

She nods.

“We’ve both heard all the rumours. You told Loki I made a different call, and you owe me a debt. I’ve never asked how things look from your end, but here’s mine: I’m glad I was so tired I just decided to walk away that night, Tasha.”

“The life you were living, I’d say you did need to either be saved or stopped. And hey, darling, you did. I got to watch you become one of the best agents in S.H.I.E.L.D. I got to watch you save the world. I had something to do with it, but you did it. You made the choice.”

“And more than that- I’ve never had a friend like you. I love you, Natasha.”

Her breathing audibly quickens, and she looks over to study him with an expression he can’t decipher.

“It’s been an honour getting to work with you, and I couldn’t ask for a better friend than you’ve been. But I’m- I-” He sighs. “You could have killed me that night my hearing aids went out. You could have killed me before that. You’ve saved my life numerous times. You’ve been there for me ever since Loki.”

“I need to learn how to handle things without relying on you so much. And before you tell me that’s what partners and friends do, I know. I’ve been relying on you way too much, though.”

After a long moment, she asks, “Finished?”

“Yeah.”

She quietly walks out.

He can’t stop the tears from falling.

“Jarvis,” he manages to choke out. “I’m going back to my room. Please, tell Nat I’ve left hers.”

“Yes, Agent Barton.”

…

Hill approves his request via email, assigns him to work with a newbie, and informs him Nat has already sent in the appropriate paperwork to make her and Steve a full-time team.

He supposes he doesn’t have the right to be hurt and offended.

…

On the day he’s ready to leave, he goes to the lab to see if Banner has any leftover cookies.

“Jarvis, I’m just going to be here for two seconds to find some cookies, and Banner isn’t here. I don’t need to put my weapons up.”

“I’m sorry, Agent Barton, but you do. It’s protocol.”

“I’m not going to shoot at someone who isn’t even here and weren’t even if- wouldn’t even if he was!”

“Agent Barton, I cannot override the protocol. Please, place all weapons inside a safe or leave the lab before I’m forced to initiate-”

“Fine,” he grumbles.

Once he does, Jarvis says, “The cookies are in the observation room.”

He goes to get them, and as he’s trying to decide whether he wants to eat them all or save some for the road, he hears the lab doors open and looks out to see Banner and Nat dragging a robot inside.

“I’ve got it,” Banner says. Tasha locks up her weapons, and he pokes at the robot with some science device. “Are you going to get Steve to relinquish control over your access to Agent Barton’s room?”

Clint stares. He’s not sure what exactly the question means, and he’s not willing to rule out the possibility he misheard something.

“That wouldn’t be a good idea,” she answers.

Suddenly, the robot knocks Banner over and zooms out of the room.

After helping Banner up, she says, “I’ll get it.”

Leaving the observation room after she disappears through the door, he says, “Hey, doc.”

Jumping, Banner looks over. “Agent Barton. Sorry, where did you come from?”

Clint jerks his thumb behind him. “I was getting the cookies.”

“Oh. Okay,” Banner says. He starts tapping on the table and bringing specs for something.

“What did you mean about my room and Steve controlling access to it?”

“With all due respect, Agent Barton, whatever is going on between you and Agent Romanov, I’m asking you nicely: Leave me out of it.”

“And with all due respect to you, Dr Banner, you brought it up to her, and regardless of whatever’s going on with me and Natasha, I have a right to know if someone besides me has control over my room.”

Banner gives him a considering look. Then, he sits down with a sigh. “The last time I got involved, the other guy appeared, but anyway, here it goes: If you asked most people, I imagine they’d say they could live without the stars. They may not want to, but they could. But everyone knows you can’t live without the sun.”

“Isn’t the sun technically a star?” Even as he asks it he realises he should probably focus more on the incident where Tasha deliberately brought out the Hulk.

However, Banner gives a look he’d swear could be classified as genuinely impressed.

“Well,” Banner muses, “maybe that’s why they can’t see what they are to one another. The sun and the other stars. Still, without the sun, it could be argued all the stars we see in the sky couldn’t exist.”

“Yeah, sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“When you were gone, Agent Romanov took over your weekly visit to the animal shelter. When she went on her mission with Steve, she enlisted Happy to do it. I don’t know why you dissolved the partnership, and it’s not my place to ask. What I do know is that she cares very deeply about you and places a high importance on your friendship and former partnership.”

Before Clint can formulate a response, Nat’s voice comes on over the comms. “Okay, doctor, I got it trapped in the greenhouse, and the primroses are safe. A little help?”

“I’ll be right there,” Banner answers.

…

Later, he sees her reading on the living room couch.

“Hey, Tasha.”

Looking up, she stares.

“Could I sit down?”

She nods.

Picking up her feet, he puts them on his lap. “I have to go soon.”

She goes back to reading.

“Gonna wish me luck?”

“I wish you luck,” is her caustic reply.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says.

She lowers her book. “I can’t understand this. Everything else, I could.”

“I know." Trying to push the misery aside, he leans back. “It’s not something I can help you with. I wish I could.”

He knows now isn’t the time to broach the subject of whatever is going on with Steve and his room.

He’s mostly sure she and Steve wouldn’t have sex on his bed, and this is literally the worst fear his mind can conjure about the subject.

She taps his shoulder.

When he looks over, she signs, _I’m going to miss you, Clint._

“Thank you,” he breathes out.

He starts to get up, but she tugs on his wrist.

“Can we just sit like this for a little while longer?”

“Yeah,” he answers, “sure.”

They sit, and tracing designs on her legs, he listens to the sound of her occasionally turning the pages.


End file.
